The Scandalous Love of a Duke (11 page)

Without words, he brought her down onto his lap, as they’d been seated yesterday, with her straddled across his groin, yet today she was naked and he clothed. He braced her face and kissed her, deeply, devotedly, forgetting all his plans to make her hate him,
let her love me
–
let this be real
, it would be the only damned real thing he’d ever had in his life. Spoilt for things, he might be, but he had never been spoilt by love.

He touched her then and whispered, “Ride them,” into her ear, he dare not undo his trousers, he did not quite trust himself today, if she was that close to him he might just be tempted to take it all.

She reached another peak like this, with a beautiful broken cry after many little gasps. She was a swift learner. As she’d rubbed against him she had not been doing it for his benefit but her own, and yet still it was nothing like the she-wolves he’d shared beds with abroad. She was so natural. There was no vicious hunger and hard edge.

But the climax was addictive, he more than anyone knew that, after he’d learned love was really only lust he had fed it with just as greedy selfishness as the women he’d hated. He’d had anyone he wished, if they’d said no initially, he’d cajoled and flattered until the answer became yes, and he’d slept with women daily, sometimes two in one day, sometimes two at once. Until he’d woken one morning and seen with bitter clarity how cold, shallow and empty his life was. Then he’d run to Egypt, to escape, seeking isolation and survival.

“You have not had your own release,” she said, looking down at him flushed and panting, her small breasts wobbling.

She
was not selfish. She was
selfless
.

He suddenly knew she had only come here to do this for him, not for herself, she might enjoy the climax, she might even have raced to reach it today, but for her this was about him, not herself.

Was that love?
Doing things for others had only ever been duty to him.

He kissed her hard, his hand in her hair. She was throwing him off his natural axis again today. His good intentions scattered to the wind, rising, he lifted her and turned so she was then sitting, or rather half lying in the chair, naked legs about his waist as she slumped back, her back curved and hunched in a way which scrunched up her stomach. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair as he undid his trousers and then he set himself between the open flesh at the apex of her thighs. Her lips were as soft as petals damp with dew.

Something hard and firm gripped in his stomach and tightened in his chest and he felt excruciatingly desperate to baptise himself in her warmth. He did not. He had made her a promise, but his hands gripped the very tops of her thighs, his fingers clasping at the first curve of her buttocks, and he simply ravished her, working hard and fast towards his own end without deference for her need.
I am
selfish
.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered after a while, clearly enchanted by his onslaught, whether it was his intent or not. Her blue eyes glowed up at him, her pupils wide with lust, but even now, even now, the look was not hard-edged need, it was soft adoration.

“You do not,” he answered, denying them both, but the words had come out with a sour note because it was what he wanted too, and he saw the pain hit her eyes in response. He gathered her up then and held her against him, this precious gift he’d found.

Her nude body was flush to his and her arms gripped about his neck, while his hands pressed against her shoulder and her back. He finished it thus, but not before she had come again as hot fluid over his groin.

“You would have regretted it, Katherine,” he whispered afterwards as she clung to him and he brushed his fingers through her hair.

“I would not,” she answered stubbornly against his shoulder, her muscles trembling.

“You would.” Again his voice was cold, because his mind and body were reeling with emotion too hard to tame.

He stood and turned away to re-secure his clothes. Then picked up her underwear and threw it to her. “Get dressed.”

God, it seemed he could not stop himself from casting orders and sounding cold, no matter that he no longer wished to push her away.

“You have two sides,” Katherine said, without thought, as he threw her clothes at her like she was dirty linen.

“Do I?” his answer was dismissive.

He was so cold most of the time, and yet when they’d done what they’d done she had seen that look again, deep in his eyes, the one which questioned life, and looked almost desperate. He’d looked afraid. “The Duke who shuts me out and John who lets me in.”

“I am one person, the duke and John, Katherine.” He reached for his waistcoat then turned to look at her again. “And besides, I can say the same of you; shy church mouse, Miss Spencer, and passionate, Katherine. You have barely blushed in this room when we have done indecent things, while outside it you colour up even when I look at you or speak.”

He was stabbing at her, because she was daring to try and penetrate beneath his granite skin. She blushed. She felt it. He could be so cruel. Was he casting shame on her because she’d enjoyed what they’d done? If it was only her timidity he appreciated, he should not have asked her here. But then it couldn’t be her beauty he was interested in. She was not beautiful compared to him. Perhaps he was only attracted to her because he’d known she would allow these things. Had his expectation been that only he should enjoy it and she should merely allow it?

Buttoning up his waistcoat, he said, “Get dressed, sweetheart.” It was in a warmer voice, but it seemed belittling to be ordered to undress and then dress.

“Now that you are done with me.” She felt betrayed as she rose.

“Now that
you
are done with me.” He reached for his cravat.

She
was
done with him. She was never doing this again. It obviously meant nothing to him.
It means everything to me
.

She dressed silently, as he did, turning her back to ask him to re-secure her lacing.

Once he’d done so, he leant his buttocks back against the table and poured himself a glass of wine as she put on her dress.

He was drinking from the glass she had drunk from, there felt something very spiritual in that.

He sighed behind her as she picked up her spencer. She turned to look at him, “Are you tired?” He looked tired, he looked worn out.

His gaze lifted and met hers. He had been looking into the wine but now his gaze shuttered, locking her out of his thoughts. “I had a late night.”

She lifted her chin at his defiant, dismissive tone. “I am not going to hurt you, John, you do not have to push me away.”

“Do I not, Kate?”

He was in such a strange mood, she could not understand him. “No, and you need not answer me with questions whenever I get close to the truth.”

“Is that what I am doing?” He set down the glass and walked forward, then began securing her buttons.

She pushed his hands away and did them herself. She wanted to help him, but he was not letting her close enough to help.

“I cannot easily trust, Katherine, you do not understand, it is the nature—”

“You do not trust me? Yet you asked me here to do this and trust you.”

“A duke cannot trust anyone, even family.
”
His voice was impatient. He spoke as though she was too naïve to know.

Perhaps she was. She had been foolish enough to agree to this. But she was not unintelligent. She was not the imbecile he implied. “You mean you
choose
not to trust anyone.”

“I do not trust people for a reason, Kate. People associate with me for a purpose.”

“And what purpose do I have, John? Or your family?”

He said nothing, merely looked at her, in his unapproachable
do-not-come-too-close-to-me
way.

She picked up her bonnet, the bonnet he had bought, and looked away, putting it on and tying the ribbons beneath her chin. She loved the bonnet, she had loved the gesture, it was a frivolous thing which she would never have been allowed to have, and never had the money to purchase. But had it only been a trade to secure her trust when he would not give his?

He spoke again then, his voice a little softer, as though he had been questioning himself. “I am different from the others in my family. I am different from everyone. My title sets me apart, yes, but in my family it is not
just
that. I am the eldest and the only one not of my stepfather, and I am so much older than the others I cannot be a part of them.” He sounded as though he wished he was.

She understood that – she understood that more than anyone.

He sipped his wine but would not look at her. Perhaps he realised sometimes his vulnerability showed in his eyes and this was part of his lack of trust. It was an insult when she had trusted him completely and let him do indecent things.

“
I
am different, John
.
” Her tone was indignant again. “I was born out of wedlock. My natural mother took her own life. The entire village are waiting for me to fall as my mother did. I do not even know who my father is.
I
have to fight against these things—”

“And I am spoilt. So you have said.”

Belligerence. “
Yes
.
You are
. Especially if you think you must treat the world with mistrust and indifference.”

He set the glass down and stared at her.

“I could wallow in misery, but I get on with my life, John. I am thankful I have a home and my father and Phillip. I chose a path to seek happiness. It seems you have chosen to wallow. Is that what you’ve done all those years abroad? You do not have my pity, John.”

His face screwed up in a disgusted sudden frown, “I do not wish for it!”

“Good.” Walking forward, she picked up the glass and took a sip to clear her dry throat then set it back and turned to leave. He grasped her wrist and turned her back, his pale eyes boring into hers.

“You would understand if you lived my life, Katherine. My grandfather spent a dozen years teaching me it would be like this. Like it or not, my position sets me apart from people.”

She did understand. She knew what it was to be isolated and lonely. But that was not what he was pointing out to her now. He was saying everyone was below him. “Including me?”

“I did not say that.”

“You said it earlier. You admitted I am a risk you are taking.”

“What you are, Katherine, is a novelty, and one I am grateful for.”

To me it is just love
.

For the first time, she understood how risky this was for her.

She was going to be hurt. He was not.

His hand came up and braced her nape and then he kissed her, gently at first, and then more forcefully as though making a point that the only thing between them was this, kisses and physical attraction.

It was not what she had wished for with him, she had wished for a Cinderella story, even though it had been an empty hope. When she had longed for him, for all the years he’d been abroad and more, she had longed for love, not for this emotionally detached bodily bond between them.

It was not enough.

“I cannot meet you tomorrow, I shall be busy. But on Sunday I’ll drive you home from church.” It was not a request, as his invitation had been yesterday or the day before, it was an assumption.

Katherine’s brow furrowed. “Reverend Barker drives me home, John.”

“The vicar can go to hell.
I
am driving you.”

“John…”

His fingers tightened at the back of her neck. “It is non-negotiable, Katherine. I will drive you home.”

“And risk my reputation.” She shook her head. Had she not just mentioned all the women who wished to see her fall? She had already fallen, but they need not know.

“Our connection is well known, people will not question it, and I will take a groom. But you are riding with me, not with him.”

“I am not your servant to be ordered, John.”

His intense gaze held hers, and then for an instant only she saw the full force of his true feelings. “Can I help it if I am jealous of the man?”

Her stomach flip-flopped with a sudden desperate longing, for love though, not lust. “You have nothing to be jealous of.” Her fingers touched his cheek and a deep pain braced her heart. He did need her, no matter how deep he sought to hide it. He needed someone who would fight through his armour.

“Don’t I? He can give you what I cannot. He can offer you a future.”

It was the first time he’d admitted they had none. She had known it. But it still hurt to hear it said.

“Are you tempted by him? Has he offered you marriage?” John felt his emotion like lacerations. She had been busy cutting him to shreds.

He was prideful and spoilt, lonely, childish, because he sulked, and weak because he chose to wallow in self-pity. Such a commendable assessment. But yet again it only proved she was not here to curry his favour. She was here because, for some strange reason, despite thinking so many ill things of him,
she cared
. Bizarre thought.

No, he did not trust her, not yet, but she was making him question his lack of trust, she was making him want to trust.

Why was she here when she thought him everything ill, and she had her perfect vicar to compare him to? He would swear she had not even kissed the saintly man.

John had no right to claim her. No right to do these things with her. Yet he could not stand the thought she might be another man’s. He never wished to let her slip through his fingers. But how could he keep her when he could offer nothing more than this, not even trust.

“I am not having that conversation with you, John.”

The fact that she did not answer him only made John more concerned. “Would you accept him, if he asked?”

“I don’t know. I do not even know if he would ask.”

God, he was in an acerbic mood today, but he could not help himself. It was due to having the dream last night and facing Wareham yesterday, and she had set him off balance with her harsh judgements. Yet no matter, he was not relinquishing her to the bloody vicar, even though he could offer her nothing himself.